




by fearlesscoward



Category: Harry Potter
Genre: Adventure, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2005-02-16
Updated: 2005-02-16
Packaged: 2013-08-26 08:42:20
Rating: K+
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2267305/1/
Author URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/754607/fearlesscoward
Summary: Post OotP: Harry is supposed to save the world, but how? Can this secret organization of crimefighters be the key? Can he and the woman he loves singlehandedly beat Voldemort?





	

**A/N: Finally, posting my first fanfic. I hope you guys like it...really I do. And don't worry, I don't believe in incredibly long updates, so there's pleanty more where this came from.**

**Disclaimer: Oh, please...if I owned Harry Potter, do you think I would be doing this?**

Entertaining the End

Chapter 1: The Preamble to Fate

The jet touched down with a slight bump on the runway, and Kris suddenly found herself thrust into the epicenter that is Great Britain.

Again.

The plane was nothing special or out of the ordinary. It was a transcontinental plane—like the ones always seen in the airline commercials; stuffed full of men, women, and children all tucked away for a fifteen-hour flight, now trying locate their carry-on's through the yawns of fatigue from the trip.

As it taxied towards the terminal, Kris instinctively looked around, scanning for anything irregular. But there was nobody popping up on the tarmac with wands or assault rifles, no terrorists rushing from the terminal, and no one on the plane was acting odder than a bunch of Mugs—as Kris tended to call them.

For a few, beautiful seconds, she was able to relax. Leaning back in her highly uncomfortable commercial airline chair, Kris closed my eyes and just breathed …in…out…in…

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived at our final destination. Please exit the plane quickly and orderly. Please be sure to take all personal belongings with you. Thank you for choosing TransAtlantic Airlines, and enjoy your stay."

And out. Her eyes snapped open again. _So much for relaxing,_ she thought as she scanned her surroundings twice more before she slung her carry-on backpack across her shoulders, checked the location of her wands and looked over her disguise. Finally satisfied, Kris made her way off the plane and into the terminal.

Finding her contacts was simple enough. Kris had briefly forgotten how terribly English ministry personnel impersonated Mugs until she spotted them standing about ten yards away. The one code-named "Beatrice" wore a long magenta skirt with a brilliant blue and yellow floral print, a flannel shirt, a raincoat, and large, pink pumps. The other, "William", had on a pair of denim shorts, a smoking jacket with a tee-shirt underneath, and cowboy boots.

Kris sucked in a deep breath, made sure she wasn't being watched and made her way towards them, trying her best to play the long-time-no-see visiting niece that was to be her cover.

"Uncle Will, Aunt Bea, hey!" Kris waved and trotted towards them. She let the roll play out as they both hugged her and began to move away from the gate like protective guardians.

"And how was the flight, dear?" Bea asked Kris, sounding earnest enough to almost make the latter forget that that was the signal for her to give the all clear. Kris looked around again before she responded.

"Uneventful. Not even a bit of turbulence." The turbulence was code for near trouble, as in 'I see a sniper wizard right over there, so we had better get our asses out of here now' trouble. Bea nodded and she and Will escorted Kris out of the airport as if they had actually known her before the last five minutes.

Kris's senses were on high alert, like they always were when she was in a highly populated area. This was not safe; it was never supposed to be. Even though the plan had seemingly worked, her brain would not let her feel safe enough to relax.

The plans of travel were never supposed to be safe, in the first place, Kris reminded herself. They were meant to be quick, and secretive. Whatever the Aurors wanted her to do, they wanted it to be kept completely secret.

That was, if she lived long enough to get out of the terminal.

Kris looked hard at every person she passed; trying to see danger in their eyes, but it was like trying to find solid ground in a giant vat of quicksand. Will and Bea were no help, being the ineffectual local ministry workers they were. They couldn't even see the growing power of Voldemort until the attack a few weeks ago, which was 100 preventable. They could have quashed Voldemort years ago, when the international intelligence came pouring in about his rising to power, but they sat on their hands and did nothing, denying his existence and hoping he'd go away. And now? Now all the Auror-1's were being pulled from their assignments, indefinitely, to go and fight the big spooky (as Kris had affectionately nicknamed him), and face almost certain death.

'No doubt that's why I'm here', Kris thought as she looked around the airport, pretending to be engrossed in the conversation, which Will and Bea were having. 'I get to be a grunt solider, oh goody. Haven't I seen enough field action? Strike teams are okay, but I almost _had_ Señor Juan Betajohati busted for distribution of magical arms and narcotics. It would have been the biggest bust in wizard history and I could have saved thousands of lives in the process. Why couldn't they have waited five or six more weeks? I could have had him!'

As she was ranting on the inside, the group had made their way out the front gates where a Ministry car was waiting for them. Will opened the door and gestured for Bea and Kris to get in, so they did. As soon as Will entered the car and shut the door he and Bea collapsed in relief.

"Wow, that was exciting!"

"Brilliant!"

"Shut up." Kris hissed, silencing them with a single hand. She looked out the window at the man who was staring right back at her. He had been watching them the entire time they were outside and while they got in the car. Slowly, Kris pulled out the wand from her pocket, making sure to keep it concealed from all. There was no reason to freak out W/B if she could help it. The tinted glass made it hard to determine exactly what he looked like, except he had the persona of a spy: bland, average clothing, average height, no distinguishing marks or out of the ordinary facial features. He continued to stare at the car and at Kris with his arms crossed nonchalantly over his chest even as the car pulled away.

"How are we getting to the Ministry?" Kris demanded, flicking her disguise off with a wave of the wand.

"By car, of course." Will replied, uneasily. He looked back out the window trying to find what it was that made her so uncomfortable.

"Do you have a portkey?" Bea nodded at Kris and pulled a candy bar from her purse. "Time it for thirty seconds." Kris turned to look at the driver. "There may be people following you. Continue to drive around like we're still inside sightseeing. Make many turns and don't stop. Will, Bea, grab a hold of the key with me." She sucked in a low breath and snatched a hold of the candy bar with the other agents.

Kris felt the familiar, vomit-inducing sensations of a working portkey, and when it stopped, she was standing in the middle of the Auror command center of Great Britain's Ministry of Magic.

And it was empty, except for herself, Will, Bea, and two other Aurors she recognized all too well.

"Oh, look, there they are!" A young woman with violently bright pink hair and purple color eyes pointed at Kris. "Lo, Kristen. How was your trip?"

"I'm not blind, Tonks, I can see her fine." Moody grumbled as he and Tonks advanced on them. He grunted, "You're late."

"I'm not late," Kris grinned back at them, nodding permission for Will and Bea to leave, "it's those damn Brit airlines. Always running behind. _I_ am never late."

Tonks laughed as they were left alone. "Yea? What about that time you and your boys were supposed to bring me air support?"

Kris narrowed her eyes. "I told you that wasn't my fault! Just because you insisted on going out before hand and I managed to pick up a guy or two."

"There were ten guys, Kris, and none for me. While you were getting all frisky at the bar, I was running for my life in the middle of the woods, WITHOUT MY PANTS!"

"Ladies," Moody grumbled, a little pink in the cheeks, "I believe now is a good time to close memory lane and get down to business."

"Sorry, Alastor."

"Sorry." Kris swallowed hard and sucked in a breath. "Let's get to it. Do either of you know what my assignment is?"

"Nope." Tonks grinned toothily at Kris. Moody glared at her, and she instantly became completely serious. "It's classified, dear. We're not allowed to tell you."

Kris rolled her eyes in disgust for procedure. "Brilliant…so, why are you here?"

Moody was the first to speak up. "I am to observe and protect while you and Tonks settle your new dwellings."

"Tonks, do you mind putting that into American-English for me?"

"In other words, dear, Moody's going to protect us while we move you into your new place."

"Oh." Great, Kris thought, more standard procedure. "Have my belongings been brought over?"

"No. It'd be too suspicious for a girl who's visiting her auntie across the pond to bring over a dining set, wouldn't it?" Tonks sighed and flopped an arm across her shoulders. "It was all left back in the States."

"It was all magically run possessions, anyhow." Moody added.

"So I have no furniture and I'm living as a Muggle. That's bloody fantastic." Kris let a sigh escape her lips. "So, when do I get a debriefing, anyway?"

"Tonight. You go on assignment tomorrow." Tomorrow! What the hell were they thinking?

"Why so soon? Don't I get to research or anything?" Kris let her eyes plead to Tonks, but she simply responded by doing a lock and key motion over her lips. Kris sighed again.

"Let's get started then. I don't have much time to do any unpacking or moving things, let alone starting my assignment."

Tonks nodded. "Then let's catch a cab."

And they were gone.

Kris was shopping in downtown London. It was supposed to be every girl's dream. Here she was, with a good friend, getting to spend unlimited amount of cash; but Kris was anxious. She felt she needed to get to work, while she was shopping around for a sofa and end tables; people were in danger, or possibly dying.

"So I was thinking we'd do the downstairs and loft bedroom in a tope colour, what do you think?" Tonks looked at her with her purple eyes, shocking Kris out of her stupor.

"Oh! What? Sorry, what was it you were saying?"

"I was saying that you should paint your apartment tope?"

"Ew!" Kris scrunched her face in disgust.

"What's wrong with tope?" Tonks asked, placing a hand on her hip.

"It's the most disgusting colour imaginable, is all." Kris said as she entered the revolving door to her new building. "Leave the decorating to me, dearest friend." They crossed the lobby, heels clicking loudly against the tile. The girl's passing noise drew some attention to them, and Kris rapidly became alert to every movement that went on in their proximity.

"Are you saying I have bad taste, Miss Kristen?"

"Yes." She grinned at Tonks to let her know that she wasn't being serious. "Actually, I think I can handle everything else from here, Honky-Tonk. I have my meeting in a few hours anyway." Kris glanced around her a few more times before giving Tonks a hug goodbye. "Thanks for all your help."

"Aw," she rolled her eyes as she hugged back, "that's what friends are for, little one. But I do have to be going." She grinned and strutted back across the lobby. "I'll see you around. And," she winked over her shoulder and proceeded to bump into the doorman, "be good to him."

"What?" Kris called after her, but she was already out the door. Kris rolled her eyes in partial disgust and annoyance while she entered the lift.

Her flat was on the 22nd floor of the Releaf Building in the heart of downtown London. She opened the door, entered her new home for the second time and sighed in relief.

Kris did have to hand it to Tonks: she knew how to pick out nice things. The door opened into a large open living room, with the kitchen to the right; open with an arch separating the two rooms. The dining room was back and to the right from the living room and could be entered by either the kitchen or living room. The other corner had a bath, and right next to the door was stair to the open loft above the living room. The study and other bath were on the other side of the kitchen. All told, it was a nice place, big enough for one or two people to live nicely or throw a party.

Kris began to move furniture around and put away her new belongings.

Harry peeked out the window as the jet-black luxury car pulled into the driveway of Number 4 Private Drive, the brakes screeching as it came to a halt. He silently fumed as Dudley rolled out the driver-side door and slammed it behind him.

"DAD, I HATE THIS CAR!" Dudley screamed at the top of his lungs. Harry watched in disgust as both his aunt and uncle sprinted out the front door towards their behemoth son and lavished him with underserved attention.

When he couldn't stomach anymore, Harry turned from the window and looked around at the room he occupied: at the dilapidated bed and the stained carpet, the hand-me-down clothes that were sprawled about, the barren walls and the single hanging light from the ceiling.

'It's not fair,' he thought as he paced the floor like a caged tiger. He beat the makeshift punching bag he created out of Dudley's newest old clothes, trying to release some of his anger. 'Dudley gets so much, and he doesn't even realize it. People care about him. People bloody love that stupid, fat prat.' Harry felt jealousy deep in his heart, but he didn't try to quash it. He didn't want to hide the anger he felt.

He just needed to get some air.

Quickly, Harry pulled some old sneakers from his still packed trunk and placed them on his feet, while he thought on how lucky Dudley was; and how he was squandering it all.

Just like he, himself, had done.

Harry's hand shook with the insurmountable rage and sadness that he felt, but he quickly sucked in a deep breath and forced the feelings back into the deep parts of his psyche, the way he had been all summer.

"What's done is done, Harry." He whispered as he pulled the bedroom door open. "Emotions won't bring him back." Harry quickly walked out of the house and down the driveway, where his "guardians" were still lavishing attention on the indifferent Dudley.

Harry spat onto the driveway and started into a jog.

"Where are you going?" His uncle bellowed at him as he passed.

"Out." Harry was still struggling with the rage deep inside him, and figured that he should probably try not to vent his anger on his uncle.

"Over my dead—"

Harry stopped short. "Dead body? I wouldn't say that, Vernon, if I were you. People have an amazing tendency to die when they're around me." Harry smirked darkly and picked up the pace, not really caring what his uncle would do.

"Is that a threat, Potter!" Vernon shouted down the street after him.

Harry didn't bother to look over his shoulder. "Whatever." And he sprinted down the street.

It was only after a block away that Harry realized Uncle Vernon had called him "Potter" instead of "Boy", and he spent a fleeting second thinking on it, before focusing again on his run.

I can't believe they gave me a stupid, old, Volvo to drive around Great Britain. It's ridiculous, Kris thought as she stared blankly at her superior's meaningless chatter about how she was getting along in England, how her drive to Sussex was, and how angry the local ministry was at how much she was spending of their money.

"O' Connell, let's cut to the chase—"

"Fine with me." Kris muttered under her breath. Her superior either didn't or pretended not to hear her.

"Agent, your new assignment is protective custody."

Kris blinked a few times in shock. "Say what?"

The man, Jack, her new boss, ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Your new assignment, Special Agent O' Connell, is protective custody of one Harry Potter. I hope you have no problem with this assignment?"

"No sir, I just thought that I was going into the field along with all the other agents that were being pulled from their—wait, do you mean _the_ Harry Potter? As in "The Boy Who Lived?—I thought he was dead?" Then added as an after thought, "Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to get off subject."

"That's fine, just don't let it happen again." Kris grinned in rebellion, but Jack kept talking. "In answers to your questions, yes _the_ Harry Potter, as in The Boy Who Lived, and no he is not dead—as that would make the job of protecting him something simple enough for local ministry to do."

Kris chuckled a little at the last comment her superior made. So, apparently, she was not the only one who had a grievance against the local hosting ministry. "So Potter is high priority, then?" Jack nodded. "Why? What does the big spook—sorry, sir—what does _Voldemort _want with a kid?"

"We don't know, O' Connell, and what we do know doesn't make much sense."

Kris's interest was peaked. "Sir?"

"Potter was recently involved with the battle that took place at the British Ministry. It was there that a prophecy was released about Mr. Potter and Voldemort. Since then, the Order of the Phoenix has been keeping very close to Potter, because they believe the prophecy to be true..."

"And what is the Aurors' position on this prophecy?" Kris interrupted.

"Today?" Jack shot back, then sighed heavily. "Anyway, since the Order of the Phoenix is the only organization in Britain worth its salt, the Aurors decided to step in and relieve some of their duties."

Kris sighed. "Well, if Dumbledore feels that there is need to protect Potter, then there's a need."

"Exactly, and Dumbledore felt much better with leaving one of the members of the Order of the Phoenix to look after him."

"Me." Kris rolled her eyes. "Since I'm the only member of both the Order and the Aurors Class 1, I'm to look after him." Jack nodded at her. "Fine. What does Potter know about this?"

"Nothing other than the fact that the Order is looking after him." Jack looked at Kris in an authoritative manner. "You are to meet Potter tomorrow in a Muggle disguise, explain to him what is being done, and take him home with you. He is not to leave without supervision or else. Do you understand, O' Connell?"

"Yea."

"Yea what?"

"Yes, sir, I understand."

"Affirmative." Jack rose and made his way to the door.

"Sir," Kris raised her hand a little to regain his attention.

"Yea?" Jack moved back to the debriefing table where Kris was still seated.

"Will I still be working in the field, even though Potter's assigned to me?"

"I don't see why the Aurors would pull their best agent simply to baby-sit." He shrugged at her. Kris smiled inside: he had called her their "best agent". But there had to be more to this assignment than babysitting some kid…

"Sir?"

"_What_?"

"What is it that the Aurors really want with Potter?" Kris prodded as Jack quirked an eyebrow and sat back down. "There's no way we'd agree to take him in if it was simply babysitting—sorry, protective custody. Is there something special about him that I should know about?"

"Everything we know about Potter is in that case folder. And you'll judge for yourself whether or not he's special." Jack smiled at her. "Good luck, Agent O' Connell. I'm glad to finally have met the agent everyone's always gushing about."

"Is that a good gushing, sir, or bad gushing?"

Jack smirked at her. "I'll keep in touch with more directives. Just complete your first take of getting the kid. Good luck."

Kris waved at her superior's retreating back. "Yea, later." She mumbled as she hunched over the file folder in front of her.


End file.
